


In the Dog House

by deklava



Series: Dark!Lestrade and Slut!Sherlock [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Puppy Play, Sherstrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-04 00:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deklava/pseuds/deklava
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The two men went to Lestrade’s car. After unlocking it, the DI ordered, “Get in… dog.”</p>
<p>Sherlock hesitated. “Dog?”</p>
<p>“Well in your case, bitch. Which is exactly what you’ve been all day. And when we get to my flat, that’s what you’ll be for the rest of the weekend.” The older man’s voice lowered to a growl. “MY bitch. Now get in the car before I send you flying in arse over tit.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Dog House

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chasingriver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingriver/gifts).



> **Beta:** chasingriver. This is also a birthday present to the world's best beta!

Detective Inspector Lestrade was counting the minutes until he could get Sherlock alone.

The arrogant detective was being ruder than usual that day. Every time he spoke to or even looked at one of the Yarders at the crime scene, he oozed disdain. When John finally rebuked him for calling a forensic technician a useless moron, Sherlock rounded on his best (and only) friend and unleashed a volley of abuse that sent the former army doctor storming off.

“Maybe Sarah will let you sleep on the bed instead of the lilo like last time!” Sherlock shouted at John’s departing back. Noticing the bevy of disapproving stares, he rolled his eyes. “Aren’t you lot at least pretending to look for evidence? Or do you need me to do it for you? Truly, you remind me of a pack of dogs sniffing uselessly about.”

A fuming Donovan opened her mouth, but Lestrade raised a hand. “Sherlock, a word, please?”

The consulting detective was too deeply immersed in his rancid mood to notice that he was now in the danger zone. He merely shrugged and said, “Fine. Provided it’s an intelligent word. I do hope that’s not asking too much.”

The two men went to Lestrade’s car. After unlocking it, the DI ordered, “Get in… _dog_.”

Sherlock hesitated. “Dog?”

“Well in your case, bitch. Which is exactly what you’ve been all day. And when we get to my flat, that’s what you’ll be for the rest of the weekend.” The older man’s voice lowered to a growl. “MY bitch. Now get in the car before I send you flying in arse over tit.”

When Sherlock obeyed immediately, Lestrade smiled. They’d been enjoying this arrangement for months now: whenever prolonged exposure to the human race turned Sherlock into an acid-tongued prat, Lestrade used pleasure and punishment to bring him so low that his shell cracked and peace set in. For Sherlock Holmes, genius was a double-edged sword: it took him far in his chosen profession but figuratively speaking, it created a locked door between him and most of humanity.

As a police officer, Lestrade knew how to kick down a locked door.

As a Dom, he loved doing it. Especially to Sherlock.

******

When they arrived at Lestrade’s flat an hour later, Sherlock eagerly shed his clothes and dropped to his knees on demand. He was so hard that he had to extend the waistband of his pants before he could lower them.

“What’s in the bag?” he asked as he watched Lestrade place it on the sofa. The DI had stopped at a sex shop on the way home and purchased a few items while Sherlock burned with curiosity in the car.

“Puppy is anxious to play with his toys, is he?”

The detective’s nose wrinkled. “What is this puppy nonsense, really?” he asked, impatience resurrecting some of his old attitude.

“Let me spell it out for you, _bitch_ , if that’s the term you’d prefer.” Lestrade went over to him, grabbed his hair, and forced his head back. “It’s not nonsense at all. This weekend you’re going to experience some much-needed obedience training. Unless you’d prefer to go back to Baker Street and give John a good reason to not change the locks on you.”

“There is a good one. Legally he can’t. Mrs. Hudson would have to authorise- AH!” Sherlock yelped as Lestrade’s boot prodded his testicles, which were drawn-up and tight. He squirmed and moaned, “Oh God, please.”

“So you want to stay then?”

When his hair was released, Sherlock nodded. His pale eyes gleamed.

“Say it.”

“Please, Lestrade, let me stay.”

“Then we’re going to do things my way. Unless you have permission or need to use your safeword, I don’t want to hear another fucking syllable out of you. Nod if you understand.”

After licking his lips, Sherlock nodded again. His erection bobbed in its own form of silent agreement, a clear drop swaying at its tip.

“Perfect.” Lestrade sounded remarkably steady for a man whose stiff cock was threatening to make short work of his zip. “I’ll ask once more: does puppy want to play with his toys?”

Sherlock nodded a third time.

“Good boy. Come here then. On all fours, like a good dog instead of the bad one you’ve been all day.”

As Sherlock approached, cock and balls swinging heavily between his long legs, Lestrade took out the studded black leather collar first. Ever since he’d seen it on the shop mannequin, he’d been imagining it on Sherlock’s swanlike neck. Now, as he buckled it into place, he conceded that the reality exceeded his imagination.

“Very nice,” he said, running a finger between the hard leather and soft skin to make sure that the collar wasn’t dangerously snug. “Now you look like a purebred show dog instead of the mongrel you’ve been behaving like.”

Sherlock raised his head even higher, a smug smile playing on his lips. Lestrade’s fingers skimmed down his spine and patted his smooth arse.

“Good boy. Now chest down.”

When Sherlock obeyed with an eager noise that actually sounded canine, Lestrade smirked. He turned back to the bag on the sofa and took out the rest of Sherlock’s ‘costume’: a furry black imitation dog tail with a fat silicone plug to keep it in place. This one was different from the average anal toy, however: it had a bulbous knot an inch from its flared base, approximating a canine erection.

When Lestrade sat on the sofa and tore the packaging open, Sherlock turned his head to look, but a slap on his arse sent him back into position.

“Didn’t anyone tell you that curiosity kills dogs as well as cats?  Don’t move until I say you can.”

Lestrade decided against fingering the younger man open first. Sherlock always enjoyed the intense burn that accompanied a rough and unnatural stretching of his hole. But the DI did apply a liberal coating of lube to the plug before spreading his lover open and pressing the slick, blunt end against that pink ring of muscle. Sherlock trembled at the first breach but remained in place as Lestrade pushed the toy into his body.

“Oooh,” he breathed, lowering his head onto his folded arms. When his sphincter shakily expanded to accommodate the knot near the base, he hissed and dug his fingers into the carpet, but didn’t call safeword.

“Beautiful,” Lestrade murmured, running a fingertip around Sherlock’s whitening rim. After the plug slid all the way inside, they both exhaled loudly. Sherlock clenched his buttocks, moaning in pleasure as the slick knot glided across his prostate.

“Good dog.” Lestrade palmed his own erection, catching his breath as the wet material of his pants rubbed across the tip. He’d never imagined that bringing Sherlock this low could excite them both so much. He’d originally intended this to be half sex game and half punishment, but it was rapidly becoming 100% erotic. “Up on all fours again.”

Sherlock’s arms shook as he struggled back into position. “Dear God,” he breathed. “What is this infernal device you’ve shoved in me, Lestrade? Every time I move, that thick part-”

A yank on his collar cut him off.

“Those, Sherlock, sound like words to me.” Lestrade got off the sofa and grasped his new pet’s jaw, forcing their eyes to meet. “Looks like your obedience training will have to start early.”

Sherlock was breathless with excitement and fear. He watched, cock now leaking all over the rug, as Lestrade went over to his antique roll-top desk and unlocked the bottom right drawer, which contained all their toys. When he saw the spider gag come out, he licked his lips in a reflexive action.

“That’s right. Time to put that mouth of yours to much better use.” Lestrade strapped the gag roughly into place. The sight of those full lips stretched tight around the steel ring, exposing that pink tongue and warm throat, sent his fingers flying to his zip. “God, I love doing this to you, you incorrigible bastard. Every time that mouth of yours spouts bullshit, I want to stuff my prick in it.”

Sherlock’s eyes brightened and a bit of drool began trickling down his chin.

“You’ve been irritating me all day. Time to make me happy,” Lestrade declared as his cock sprang free over the waistband of his pants. He was so hard that it hurt when he grasped the base to guide himself into his enthusiastic pet’s mouth. “Here you go: get it nice and wet before I take your arse with it.”

Sherlock moaned, sending delicious shivers through Lestrade’s cock as it slid across his tongue and down his throat. He coughed and gagged at first but Lestrade grasped his hair with both hands and kept pressing inward, smiling at how rapidly the detective’s handsome face reddened and turned wet with tears and saliva.

“Yes, just like that,” he declared as his pubic hair brushed against Sherlock’s flaring nostrils. After giving the younger man mere seconds to overcome the gag reflex, he tightened his grip on those dark curls and began fucking Sherlock’s face with deep, hard strokes.

“Good boy…. This is what your mouth should be doing all day. Making people feel good instead of giving them a headache.”

He pulled out and rubbed his saliva-coated erection all over Sherlock’s face, painting it with drool and pre-ejaculate. Sherlock closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, letting the smell of his Master’s arousal make him even harder. When Lestrade plunged back down his throat he gurgled happily and resumed his oral worship.

“That’s right. Do a good job, because your spit will be the only lube you get when I fuck you.”

Lestrade was bluffing, and both of them knew it, but Sherlock threw himself into the task like his arse depended on it, slurping and spitting and coating Lestrade’s cock with slippery fluid. While he sucked, his buttocks clenched around the tail plug again, massaging his prostate with the knot and making him moan.

“Fucking fantastic,” Lestrade groaned as the throat vibrations triggered a warning shiver in his cock. He pulled out of Sherlock’s mouth, undid the gag, and grabbed the lube. “Turn around. Shoulders to the floor.”

The younger man whined eagerly as he whirled about and presented his arse. Lestrade kicked his trousers and pants off before slicking up the fingers of his right hand.

“Relax,” he ordered. “This is going to be a stretch even for you.”

He grasped the base of the tail with his dry hand and pulled on it slowly, until the knot emerged. Seeing how Sherlock’s rim trembled around its broad girth, Lestrade grinned.

“Think that’s too big for you, puppy? Just wait.”

The detective’s shoulders slumped when the rubber sphere finally popped free. His sphincter clamped down on the narrower width of the dildo itself, but the relief was short-lived: Lestrade slid two slick fingers alongside the toy, resuming the stretch and burn that made Sherlock’s fingernails pierce the carpet.

“Don’t be bloody dramatic,” the DI scolded when the other man groaned behind clenched teeth. “You’ve taken more than this before. And you know you love it.”

Sherlock made a noise that sounded like “Fuck, yes!” He exhaled loudly and struggled to relax. When Lestrade’s free hand slid between his legs and gave his cock a few strokes, the hot pleasure that bloomed through his crotch distracted him enough to let his already-expanded hole take a third finger.

“Hnngh!” He bit his knuckles to keep from begging for more in a decidedly un-canine manner. Lestrade couldn’t resist a lecherous grin as he watched those slim hips push back against his hand.

“Ready for me to fuck you now?” he asked as he slowly and teasingly extracted his fingers. When Sherlock’s body gripped him in protest, he chuckled. “Not satisfied yet, even with a plug and half my fist in your greedy arse?”

He didn’t bother waiting for Sherlock to respond: he knew the answer. He also knew that it probably hurt when he applied a condom and pushed his cock into the newly created gap beneath the tail plug, but Sherlock didn’t beg him to stop, even when it took two abrupt and hard thrusts to get all the way inside. Once he was fully seated, Lestrade paused to relish the gripping heat.

“Fuck, this is lovely,” he breathed before grabbing Sherlock’s hips and pulling out until only the tip remained inside. “I hope to Christ you’re ready for this.”

He slammed back in.

The younger man screamed into his already-bruised knuckles as he was stretched and fucked by Lestrade and the toy simultaneously, the pain made bearable by the stabs of pleasure as his prostate was stroked. Soon he was making undignified noises even for a dog, but he didn’t care.

“Good bitch,” Lestrade grunted, sweat flying off his face and chest each time his hips collided with Sherlock’s buttocks. Seeing how the furry tail swayed back and forth with every movement, he added, “Look at you: wagging your tail as you take your master’s cock like a bitch in heat.”

Sherlock clenched his teeth and cast a pleading stare over his shoulder. His grey eyes were wide and dark with lust, and a sex-flush reddened his pale skin. _No one else can bring him to this level,_ Lestrade thought with pride. _Shut down that bloody overactive brain, make him want to do nothing but come everywhere._

“You want to come, do you?”

Sherlock nodded so rapidly that his angular face was a blur.

“Ask me then. You can speak now.”

“Please!” The words burst out of the younger man’s mouth like fireworks. “Please, Lestrade, let me come!”  
  
“Who owns you right now?”  
  
“You do! Please, I promise, I’ll be a really good pet and oh _fuck_ , please, I need to-”  
  
Lestrade’s fist closed around Sherlock’s slippery penis and started pumping, spraying precome everywhere. His voice roughened as his own orgasm loomed, making his stomach muscles tighten and his thighs shake. “Come for me, then! Show me how grateful you are-”  
  
He was cut off in mid-sentence when Sherlock howled, body swaying and shuddering as he came all over his lowered chest and the carpet. Despite being stuffed so thoroughly, his arse gripped Lestrade with such force that the DI threw his head back, roared at the ceiling, and shot a succession of thick loads into the warm and frantic body beneath him. He didn’t climax: he _erupted._ His world exploded, leaving him with fire for blood and a volcanic sense of pleasure-pain that left him breathless and shaking and nearly insane.   
  
_Bloody sod will be the death of me. But what a way to go...._  
  
Both men collapsed onto their sides, bodies still joined and muscles trembling. Lestrade muffled his groans by digging his teeth into his partner’s shoulder and leaving a red mark amidst scarred-over mementos of their past encounters. The pain seemed to excite Sherlock further: he grabbed his cock and shook it hard, sending another shower of sperm everywhere.  
  
When they both finally went still and Lestrade felt he could trust his coordination, he carefully pulled out of Sherlock and extracted the tail. Semen trickled from the detective’s now-empty hole, inspiring Lestrade to catch some on his finger. Leaning over Sherlock’s sweaty shoulder, he ordered, “Open your mouth.”  
  
Although exhausted, the younger man didn’t need much persuading. He groaned in sleepy contentment and sucked the sperm-coated finger between his lips. After swallowing, he murmured, “I must congratulate you, Lestrade. That was quite imaginative.”  
  
Lestrade’s fingertip traced the dark red indentations on Sherlock’s shoulder. “Not too much for you, then?”  
  
“No.” Sherlock feigned indifference as he wriggled his sore arse against the older man’s softening cock. “I believe you said this arrangement was for the weekend? I’m sure I can indulge your canine fantasy for two more days.”  
  
Lestrade smirked against his lover’s back. He’d tell Sherlock later that Monday was a Bank Holiday.


End file.
